The Jelly World Code
by WhittyCat
Summary: A Neopian parody of Angels & Demons and The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown.


**The Jelly World Code**

by Hew

_In memory of literature._

A while ago, I had the misfortune of reading both Angels & Demons and The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. As part of the recovery process, I decided to fix these stories by writing a Neopian parody.

Unfortunately, I backed myself into a bit of a corner in terms of audience, what with the average Dan Brown fan being too immature to appreciate the subtle complexities of Neopets, and the average Neopets user being too young to read. If you have read any Dan Brown, you will get about half of the humour. If you have played Neopets, you will probably get the other half. If you have done both, then this book is for you.

Chapter 1

Professor Richard L'Ogrin was sound asleep when the telephone rang.

At first he rolled over, deciding that he had earned this rest, and the machine could get it. The caller was persistent though, and as his mind cleared, L'Ogrin caught sight of the red glow of the digital clock and realized that anyone calling at 3:00am must have something important to say.

What if something had happened to his parents, he thought, then felt confused. As all law biding Neopians, he had no concept of what a mother or father might be, and no notion of reproduction, but he did have many friends of the mortal variety. A chill of panic seized him. He snatched the receiver up and held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Are you Richard L'Ogrin?" a voice inquired. The voice did not belong to anyone he knew.

"Yes?"

"Professor Richard L'Ogrin of the National Neopian Academy?"

"Yes," the professor responded, confused. "What can I help you with?"

"Professor, you specialize in psychology… cult and criminal psychology?"

"Who is this?" the professor said, his panic having subsided, his annoyance at being woken up returning.

"My name is Maurice de Rajk, and I am an official on the Altador Cup Committee."

_Impossible! __Why __would __an __official __with __the __Altador __Cup __Committee __be __calling __me?_ the professor thought, establishing his

character as dull and easily amazed.

"What is it you think I can help you with?" L'Ogrin repeated, irritated. "The Altador Cup is already over for the year."

"One of the players has been attacked," the official blurted out, as if suddenly losing his resolve to be politically vague. "Violently attacked. It was a brutal act."

"Still, I do not understand what it is you think I can help you with?" the professor pleaded, further establishing his character as dull, because if we already know he specializes in criminal psychology, surely he knows that, and you'd think he'd see a connection between a violent crime and criminal psychology. "Why do you need me? Aren't the police dealing with the incident?"

"Of course the police are investigating, but due to the nature of the crime, I think we could benefit from your insight too. You might understand something about this attack from a psychological perspective that the rest of us cannot." Based on character development thus far, his conviction seemed unlikely at best.

"What exactly do you mean by the nature of this crime?"

"As I mentioned, it was a brutal attack. A branding. One of the players was branded with the team shield," the voice explained.

"Seriously," L'Ogrin sighed, just wanting to be left alone to get some rest, "I am flattered that you thought of me, and have so much faith in me, but I really don't think you need any specialist for this case. The police can handle it."

"Why do you think that?" the official inquired. He was the one who sounded annoyed now.

"Every year there is something like this. The Altador Cup always causes rivalries, and they escalate into shouting matches, riots, and tavern fights. There is always a fight at the Golden Dubloon. There is always a player that gets assaulted by another team. I admit, this attack does sound particularly gruesome, but no doubt the motives were the same as all the other game related attacks. You really don't need my expertise for that," the professor redeemed himself by suggesting that he has some brain function.

"Ah, there is more to it than that though," the official took a deep breath. "The victim was an unusual target."

"Which team?" L'Ogrin humoured him. "Haunted Woods or Darigan Citadel?"

"The victim played for the practice team."

"What?" L'Ogrin had misjudged the situation, and was genuinely surprised by this. "Which team had a fight to pick with the practice team?"

"The brand, I mentioned the victim was branded… he was branded with his own team shield. The attack was clearly politically motivated. Someone was trying to prove something in a way the world of Neopia could not possibly ignore."

"By branded," L'Ogrin spoke to himself, stunned, "You do mean branded… like with a red hot metal shield?"

"There is the other interesting twist, Professor. The shield was metal, but it was never heated. It was stone cold."

"So this wasn't a branding at all," L'Ogrin almost growled, his impatience returning. "More like a shoving."

"Oh, it was a branding. The shield may have been stone cold, but it still left a definite imprint on the victim."

"Where is the victim?" L'Ogrin demanded, suddenly intrigued, and realizing the magnitude of the situation. The professor had studied accounts of such things all his life, though ten seconds ago he seemed to have no prior knowledge of it.

"At the National Neopian Hospital," the official said. "The police have sent him to stay there for a few days so that they can run a few tests, but the doctors seem confident he will make a full recovery; albeit with some scarring."

"I am on my way."

Chapter 2

By the time Richard L'Ogrin arrived at The National Neopian Hospital it was almost 3:45am, and the Hospital was more or less deserted. The media had not heard about the attack yet, or at least not the details. The professor walked hurriedly through the automatic glass doors and to the sparkling white counter in the lobby.

"Hello," the administrative assistant greeted him cheerfully, "What is the emergency, sir?"

"Actually," L'Ogrin stammered, "I am here to see someone."

"Sir," the blue elephante raised her eyebrows in disapproval, "It's 3:46am. It's far from visiting hours."

"You don't understand…" L'Ogrin stammered again, unsure as to how to proceed, "I was supposed to meet with –"

"It's okay," the voice from the telephone said, stepping from the shadows of the darkened hallway. "It's Professor Richard L'Ogrin, the criminal psychologist. I called him in to assist with the case."

"Ah, very well then, Sir," the elephante recovered her cheery smile.

"Follow me," the voice called to the professor, and he turned to follow the fast moving figure down the hallway. The National Neopian Hospital was eerily dark and deserted this time of night. The caller wasn't going far though. The hospital room he was heading to was only about four doors down. The caller opened and closed the door very quietly, ushering the professor in quickly.

Safely inside the hospital room, Richard L'Ogrin scanned his surroundings, for the benefit of the reader, of course. In the middle of the room was a standard hospital bed, a sterile metal frame with simple white sheets. There was a figure, a blue kougra by L'Ogrin's guess, sleeping on his back, covered by the sheets. There was a window on the far side of the room from L'Ogrin, and an intravenous tower with a few bags of fluids and tubes hooked up to it, and to the figure in the bed.

In front of the professor stood the three officials from the Altador Cup Committee. On the left was a stout green skieth with a dirty blonde goatee and mutton chops. On the right was a gorgeous blue aisha with dark eyes and beautiful ringlets of golden hair. The caller, a serious looking red draik with a ridiculous grey beard, took his place in the middle of the three.

"Let me introduce you," the caller smiled, keeping his voice quiet. "Of course you already met me. I am Maurice de Rajk. This is Laurence, and this is Cindy, but we call her Curly. Our victim over there is Derek VanGoel." The other officials all nodded politely to their guest.

"Professor Richard L'Ogrin," said Professor Richard L'Ogrin, extending his hand to the officials. "Did I mention I am a champion swimmer?" The fact that he was a champion swimmer, and he was, I should mention, a champion swimmer, had nothing at all to do with the current conversation. Still, he felt he should establish that fact earlier than later since it was bound to come up somewhere around the climax of the story. The officials looked at him blankly for a few moments.

"Now," Maurice continued, "There is much to discuss, but we must be quiet so that our victim can get the rest he needs to recover."

Behind the door of the room were three functional grey chairs, and a closet behind them. The three officials moved toward the closet. As L'Ogrin was about to hand them his jacket, he realized that this was no nicety. There was something in the closet they wanted to show him. Maurice quietly slid the door open, and removed a seemingly heavy item, and placed it on one of the chairs.

The item was carefully packaged in a sterile looking steel tin labeled _Police__Evidence:__Do__Not__Tamper._Maurice removed the lid of the tin to reveal a layer of airtight plastic sealing the item in to protect it. L'Ogrin leaned in to view the object, and stumbled as the realization hit him. The item was the Practice Team Shield! The murder assault weapon itself!

"The National Neopian Police have left this key piece of evidence in our care for a while," Maurice motioned to the item, "So that we could show it to you, and so that the doctors could see it, in case it could help them treat the victim. The police will be by to collect it soon." The other officials all nodded, as if reinforcing that this was a reasonable explanation. The professor leaned forward again to examine the evidence. The item was a solid, presumably heavy metal shield. The object seemed like the perfect weapon for a branding, but there was something missing about this particular item.

"It's not the assault weapon," L'Ogrin concluded. The three officials looked baffled.

"Are you sure?" Laurence looked confused.

"Why do you say that?" Maurice asked.

"It's simple," L'Ogrin responded like a professional. "There is no evidence of the metal having been heated, and no blood on the detailing of the shield."

"Of course it's the assault weapon," Maurice sighed. "I already told you the weapon was never red hot, but rather stone cold, and there isn't any blood on the weapon. The victim didn't even bleed. There is another strange residue on the detailing, but the forensics unit is analyzing that as we speak."

"What do you mean the victim didn't bleed?" L'Ogrin inquired, still not believing this story.

"He didn't," Curly, who had remained silent until this point shot a look at him.

As Richard L'Ogrin was about to push the subject further, the conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. The four of them all spun, startled to see who was there. The three officials were not alarmed by the neopet they saw though.

On the other side of the glass was a gleaming golden shoyru, wearing a black wool robe, the heavy hood casting shadows in her face. L'Ogrin wondered why she would hide a face like that.

"It's Mrs. VanGoel, the player's wife," Laurence offered, as Curly ushered her in.

"May I see my husband now?" she said sadly, with her head bowed.

"Sure," Curly offered her hand. "Come on in. He's still sleeping, but the doctors are done examining him now, and I imagine it's fine for you to sit with him for a while." The wife smiled, and took a seat at his side. A custard doglefox had sloshed through the door on her heels, and jumped onto her lap as she sat down, putting his paws up on the edge of the bed to look at the patient.

"Who is this fellow?" L'Ogrin referred to the petpet.

"It's his petpet; he wouldn't stand to be left at home," the shoyru smiled.

"Custard, huh?" L'Ogrin gave a friendly laugh. "Aren't they kinda messy petpets?"

"So true," the shoyru gave a shy laugh in return, "but we always get custard petpets. The chocolate and the custard ones are pretty much the only ones that won't try to chew on…" she trailed off, deciding she didn't want to get into that, whatever it was. There was something curious about her golden colouring. She seemed to shimmer and glow in the fluorescent lighting.

Following her, the three officials gathered around the bed, and Maurice exchanged a look with the shoyru, who nodded. He moved to take hold of the sheets. The professor realized they were waiting for him, and he moved forward hesitantly. As he reached the edged of the bed, Maurice gently, but dramatically, eased the covers back so that L'Ogrin could see the wound. L'Ogrin gasped, recoiled, and stumbled again. The Practice Team Shield, he could see it clearly, but not like a bruise. The victim really had been branded. The shield was imprinted into his chest as if… as if the victim were… made of jelly.

Chapter 3

"Do you believe us now professor?" inquired Maurice de Rajk.

"What are you suggesting I believe?" Richard L'Ogrin was stammering again. "Believe that the victim was assaulted and branded with his own team, the Practice Team, shield? Yes. Believe that he was branded even though the shield wasn't heated? Yes, I suppose I do."

"No…" Maurice urged him along. "Believe that he is a jelly kougra?"

"No!" L'Ogrin blurted back. "Of course not! There is no such thing as jelly neopets. It's impossible!"

"Yes!" the golden shoyru chimed in with tears tearing tributaries through her cheeks. She threw back her hood. "It's true. He's a jelly kougra, and I am a jelly shoyru, and we are from… Jelly World."

"No!" L'Ogrin shook his head, refusing to believe the things his senses told him were true. "It's impossible." The shoyru was about to say something else, but they were interrupted by another knock on the door.

The neopets in the room all turned once again to see who was there, and this time it was an official looking checkered gelert wearing a black and white suit, and a black earpiece. The badge on his jacket identified him as a member of the police force.

"Pardon me," the officer said, nudging his nose around the door. "May I speak to you please?" The neopets all looked at him with their full attention, so he continued, nervously. "The forensics team has finished analyzing the residue found on the Practice Team Shield. It appears to be semi-melted berry flavoured jelly. The National Neopian Police seem to be very excited about these results, and are sending a team to collect the evidence. The team should be arriving any second."

"Thank you," said Maurice de Rajk. "Let's go greet the police team in the lobby, and leave husband and wife alone for a few minutes, shall we?" The Altador Cup Committee, Laurence,

Maurice, and Curly, followed the officer out the door. Richard L'Ogrin followed them too. The professor closed the open door behind him, but just as he was about to head down the hallway, something made him look back.

What made him turn back he would never know, but something would not allow him to leave that room. Instead, he turned to see Mrs. VanGoel stand, walk to the window, and stretch wearily as she stared into the night. He watched her through the door window from a distance. She was captivating. She moved with a fluid grace. He wondered if she could really be a jelly shoyru. She looked back at the sterile steel tin labeled _Police__Evidence:__Do__Not_ Tamper, then turned to the window again. She stared, as if in a swaying trance. Just as the professor felt like he was being sucked into the trance watching her, she did a most unexpected thing.

Suddenly, she picked up the chair she had been sitting in, and in one fluid motion, she smashed the window. Alarms sounded instantly. Mrs. VanGoel was unphased though. She knew exactly what she was doing. She put down the chair, wheeled around, picked up the tin, and jumped out the first floor window.

Chapter 4

Professor Richard L'Ogrin liked his own name, and he didn't have time to think.

Instinctually, he ran to the window, and jumped out, in pursuit of the captivating shoyru. She wasn't far ahead of him, and he ran to her side quickly. She wasn't about to stop her dash, so he was forced to keep pace with her. The two of them were running through the gardens in front of the National Neopian Hospital.

No one could see them as the gardens were thick with flowers, plants, trees, and a few fountains, and all unlit at this time of night. As the shoyru neared the road though she veered to the side, staying in the cover of darkness.

"What are you doing?" the professor called.

"Stealing the evidence!" she said, trying to lose him, but he remained close on her heels.

"Why would you do that?" he called.

"Don't you see?" she screamed behind her, her voice filled with both excitement and exasperation. "It's irrefutable proof of the existence of Jelly World!"

"Why did you just tell me you were from Jelly World," L'Ogrin argued, "if you don't want Neopians to know it exists?"

"Oh, but I do want them to know!" she called. "The world of Neopia _needs_ to know that Jelly World exists!"

"Why would you steal the evidence then," L'Ogrin was confused, "if it's irrefutable proof of the existence of Jelly World?"

"Don't you understand anything?" she screamed again. "The National Neopian Police are not going to release any information from this investigation to the public. The Police were coming to collect this evidence… so they could destroy it!"

"Where are you taking it then?"

"The Neopian Times," she smiled, "to the media!"

"Wait," Richard L'Ogrin begged. He was losing pace with her, lacking her obvious motivation. She stopped only for a second.

"Mr. L'Ogrin," she said, "The World of Neopia is in grave danger at the hands of Jelly World. You do not need to come with me for this, but you do need to believe this, and to make others believe. There is a neopet who can tell you more. Find Flipp. You can find him here in Neopia Central." With that she turned and disappeared into the night. For a split second, he thought he saw a flash of pink fur running along between her ankles.

_Jelly__World_, he mused to himself as he watched her silhouette disappear. _Impossible._

Indeed, the whole idea was impossible. As impossible as faerie snorkels. Impossible enough to be worth mentioning. As impossible as if she had suggested that he himself was made of jelly, which was also worth mentioning. In case the idea came up again around the climax, the author felt it was her responsibility to plant the idea early, because, being much more gullible than her characters, was convinced that shocking stories were the leading cause of preventable death among literate Americans.

Chapter 5

Professor Richard L'Ogrin spent the rest of the night running searches for the fellow. Since he had trained so many criminal psychologists at the National Neopian Academy, he had a lot of police contacts to call on for a favour. Unfortunately, since he had trained so many of them, they weren't very good at their job, and it took an unnecessary amount of time. The fellow Flipp turned out to be some sort of paranoid conspiracy theorist who had made himself difficult to track, but find him they did.

At about 7:00am the professor found himself walking up a dusty dirt road away from the city of Neopia Central. The still rising sun was in his eyes all the way up the hill, but through squinting eyes, he finally saw the place he was searching for. The property was a farm, with fields of grains surrounded by a rotting wooden fence. The farmhouse stood in the middle of the fields. The professor found the gate and the walkway to the front door. He knew it was early morning, but he knocked on the door anyway. As he was standing on the doorstep, tapping his foot, waiting for any sound coming from the house in front of him, he heard a noise behind him. There was a rustling of the grass, and he turned around just in time to see a pink techo pointing a pitchfork at him.

"What are you doing on my property, stranger?" demanded the techo.

"Pardon me," the professor said, stumbling as he stepped back. "My name is Professor Richard L'Ogrin, of the National Neopian Academy."

"Ah, you are one of them are you?" the techo said, jabbing the pitchfork toward him. "No surprise. I always knew you were watching me. What do you want from me then?"

"The Academy didn't send me," L'Ogrin said calmly. "Mrs. Derek VanGoel told me to find you. She said you had information." The techo stopped in his tracks. A softer look came over his face as he recognized the name. He put the pitchfork at his side.

"Sure, if there is one thing I have it is information," he

began to walk away, and L'Ogrin followed him into the fields. "What information?"

"It's about…" the professor stammered. "What I meant is that, she send me to get information about … it's so absurd… it's about…"

"Just say it," the techo turned around to give him a harsh stare. "Jelly World."

"What?" the professor stammered. "Why would you think it's about that?"

"Have you never heard of Jelly World?" the techo said condescendingly.

"Sure, I've heard the stories. The n00bs are always talking about it on the message boards. At any given time there are a dozen claiming that they've been there, that they know how to get there, always trying to invent the most elaborate ridiculous story," the professor said, talking without thinking, regurgitating the things he had been taught by society. The truth was he could not accept the truth he had seen, despite logic, reason, and proof, so he was desperately clinging to accepted truths.

"So you think it is all just stories then?" he said with pity in his voice.

"Of course. It's just a myth. Don't you think?"

"I think you pwe those 'n00bs' an apology," he growled.

"What are you saying?"

"Why would so many neopets, and petpets alike claim that they've been there, that they know how to get there, if it doesn't exist?"

"Attention," it was quite simple to the psychologist. "Why do people claim to be abducted by aliens?"

"Didn't the Grundos turn out to be real? Didn't we prove that Dr. Frank Sloth was using the native Kreludorians as slaves to abduct Neopets and perform medical experiments on them, mutating them?"

"Well, that's different…" he justified.

"Haven't you noticed that the Neopets Team never mentions Jelly World. Even if they are asked direct questions about it, they still avoid talking about it. The only answer they ever give is that Jelly World doesn't exist."

"Why would they mention something that doesn't exist? That's specious reasoning. What would they have to say about something that doesn't exist other than it doesn't exist?"

"It's a conspiracy," he stated simply and confidently. "Did you ever notice there is one staff member they never mention; The Smoking Staff Member."

"The Smoking Staff Member?" L'Ogrin echoed.

"Do you really doubt his involvement?" Flipp pressed.

"Involvement in a secret conspiracy that should never be mentioned because it is secret?" L'Ogrin clarified.

"No."

"What are you implying that this mysterious staff member is involved with then?"

"Nothing. Certainly not a secret conspiracy that should never be mentioned because it is secret."

"Are you saying that this mysterious person should not be discussed because the person in question has nothing to do with a top secret conspiracy that doesn't exist, because he doesn't exist?"

"Are you seeing the connection to Jelly World yet?"

"I think I am…"

"No. You're not."

"Because there is no connection?"

"No, it doesn't exist."

"It's all clear now…"

Chapter 6

Suddenly, Flipp stopped in the middle of the field. Flipp was a bitter character. He had a lot to be bitter about. Perhaps he was bitter because his owner had named him Flipp, or painted him pink, or because he was so paranoid he could never keep friends. Maybe he was bitter from waiting for the Altador Plot Prizes, or NeoSchools, or the Apocalypse. Whatever the reason, he felt justified in being bitter.

"Where are you taking me?" the professor demanded.

"Here," the techo replied with a perfunctory tone. He reached down, and found a latch in the ground, and lifted up a heavy steel trap door. The door revealed a sterile looking steel staircase, and a burst of stale air.

"Where is here though?"

"My Y2K shelter," the techo mumbled. "What a waste of Neopoints that was. I spent almost all my Neopoints having this shelter constructed, and it was never needed."

"What do you use it for now?"

"My NeoSchool supplies," he sighed. "Do you remember that day the Neopets Team announced that NeoSchools would be open for enrollment within the week, and the restockers bought all the items from the School Supplies Shop so we could sell them later? I was one of those restockers. Oh, I bought three of every item. I have a complete collection, but then…. Ah, I am storing them here until the NeoSchools open and they appreciate in value."

"Actually," the professor started to say, "I think that the NeoSchools…"

"I AM STORING THEM HERE UNTIL THEY APPRECIATE IN VALUE!" Flipp yelled at him in all caps. The two of them descended the staircase in silence.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a set of heavy steel doors labeled QUARANTINE. There was a road sign, probably stolen, mounted above the doorframe. The road sign said, "Do Not Proceed. Nothing to See Here. 4/5 Meepit Overlords Agree: Jelly World Does Not Exist". The professor thought this was a very strange sign, but probably some sort of decoration, an inside joke among conspiracy theorists. The techo punched a password into the keypad, and the doors stood open.

"Follow me," Flipp said, and the two wandered down a long suffocating corridor. As they reached the part of the hallway with doors, an alarm of some sort started to beep. Flipp flung open a door, rushed into one of the rooms, and closed it behind him. The alarm stopped and Flipp reappeared.

"What was that?" said L'Ogrin.

"Nothing," said Flipp. "I had to press a button. "Where were we?"

"What is it you have to show me about Jelly World," L'Ogrin couldn't believe he was saying the words.

"Of course," said Flipp. "What I am going to give you are directions that will take you to Jelly World, but you must not go directly there. It's too dangerous. You must make a stop in Mystery Island to see RBS. He has a collection of the rarest weaponish items in all of Neopia. He will give you the equipment you need to defeat them…"

"Who is them?" the professor inquired apprehensively.

"Who?' Flipp echoed in astonishment. "The evil ones, the ancient creatures that have haunted Neopia for all time since 2001, the most evil creatures ever pixilated, the ones prophesized to destroy us all!"

_Ah, __so __it __was __the __Apocalypse __he __was __waiting __for_, L'Ogrin thought to himself. In an increasingly tedious effort to keep in character, he chose to dismiss this prophesy as impossible.

"Where do I find this RBS character then?" he sighed, because as much as he did not believe any of this, and it was not his battle to fight, and he really had no reason to get himself involved at all, he was quite determined to begrudgingly continue on this adventure.

"The Neopia Central ferry docks," explained Flipp. "You can catch the ship to Mystery Island this morning, and then wait on the beach. The RBS will find you."

Chapter 7

The oasis of Mystery Island harbour finally materialized on the horizon. The journey had been a perilous one, with winds, thunder, lightning, storms, attacks by the Krawk Island pirates. The primarily rainbow painted crew had almost used all their allotted rations, and the starvation was leading to anxiety, depression, gambling addictions, knife fights, and even insanity. It had been a grueling half an hour indeed, and the professor had been glad to be a champion swimmer the whole way.

The professor leaned against the side of the ship as it pitched into the harbour. The deck myncis tossed the lines to other deck mirgles and pulled the ship into the dock safely. The professor eagerly clamoured down the boarding plank. He had been mistaken, and it turned out to be the gangplank, but that was okay because he was a champion swimmer. He pushed his way through the bustling markets of the harbour to the beach visible along the shore.

The beach glowed with beautiful white sand, used mainly for dying into other colours of sand, the main export of the island. The professor trudged across the beach lamenting the hot sun boiling him in his entirely inappropriate tweed suit.

By the time he had reached the middle of the sandy abode, he was exhausted, and almost ready to book a room in one of the beach side resorts, but then he saw the big picture. There were giant letters scrawled in the sand.

Frantically, he climbed to the top of the hill to examine this newly discovered clue from the highest possible vantage point. The higher ground was no help though. He sighed, feeling the adrenaline rush subside with admitting defeat. The clue was useless, the scrawlings indecipherable. The language, if the lettering could be called a language at all, was not even a recognizable one.

So L'Ogrin decided to call it quits, lamenting his lot. If he was already this late for work, and on the beach, he figured he might as well enjoy himself. So he took at seat on the patio of a café attached to one of the resorts. The patio offered an even higher vantage point, and he stared regretfully at the scrawlings in the sand for another five pages until he realized the letters were just upside down, and clearly said RBS.

"It's a sign!" he rejoiced, dramatically falling to his knees, awkwardly because he had already been in a sitting position.

"Why thank you, sir," a voice said. "My artwork is meant to help people, and I am glad it seems to be helping you," a jubjub said softly, carrying the big stick he had used to carve the letters in the sand.

"Who are you?" the professor said surprised.

"The artist," the purple jubjub bowed. "The one and only RBS."

"Ah," L'Ogrin shook his head confused, then realized this was the person he had come to find. "You're RBS?"

"Indeed sir," the jubjub was basking in the attention.

"Wow, uh, you're a jubjub," the professor mumbled to himself. He wasn't racist. At least he always told himself he wasn't, but he couldn't help noticing. After all, he hadn't expected his prophesized hero to be, well, a Jubjub.

"Nay, good sir," replied the jubjub cheerfully, having taken no notice of the slur. "I am a Jabberwocky."

"Oh," L'Ogrin opted to change the subject. "What do the initial RBS stand for anyway?"

"Root Beer Soup. Soup de la biere racine. Du jour!" the jubjub bowed dramatically again. Professor Richard L'Ogrin stared, almost stone still if he hadn't raised one eyebrow involuntarily.

At that moment, a gangly cloud zafara came bounding along the path from the beach to join them on the patio. "RBS! RBS!" he twirled around the jubjub nimbly, "Wanna watch me lick my elbow?" The jubjub simply smiled, and motioned toward the professor, and the smile seemed to calm the bounding zafara. "Pleasure to meet you," he turned politely toward the protagonist and curtsied. At least he seemed like a nice enough lad, but there was just something about the way he spoke that made the professor think he was probably none too bright. [All of his dialogue should be in Comic Sans MS, but the FanFiction format doesn't allow for different fonts.]

"Who are you?" the professor prodded; he meant it as a pleasantry, but he was never very adept at those. He was expecting another ridiculous name made from a combination of unrelated nouns, produced by flotsams in a tank somewhere.

"Dan," replied the zafara, and the professor felt a bit disappointed.

"Are you a jabberwocky too, Dan?" the professor chided.

"No," said Dan sincerely. "I am just a regular wocky."

"Uh huh," said the professor.

"What brings you to the beautiful Mystery Island beach?" the jubjub inquired.

"Actually, I meant to find you," the professor began, and the jubjub beamed. "My friend, Flipp the conspiracy theorist, has convinced me to undertake a perilous journey to a dangerous land, and suggested I seek your counsel."

"Where are you traveling on this quest?" the jubjub inquired further.

"Oh Owner," he sighed, realizing he was going to have to go through this all again. Going along with it, he muttered, "Jelly World."

"Oo000ooo4h," gasped Dan.

Chapter 8

"Why in Neopia are you traveling to Jelly World?" the jubjub exclaimed, jaw hanging agape. Professor Richard L'Ogrin reluctantly recounted the events of the previous night, stringing together as much information as he could into a messy narrative.

"It's the truth. Everything the others have already explained to you is the truth," the suddenly solemn Root Beer Soup responded. "It's dreadfully dangerous, and as much as we do need a normal Neopian to champion our cause, that normal one will probably not be you."

"Jelly World needs a plebian!" Dan twirled around, pronouncing plebian incorrectly, as a true plebian would.

"Seriously," the RBS continued. "I am willing to wager like seven million on your dying before you reach the border, but if you still insist on going, you are definitely going to need my help."

"I do insist!" he insisted immediately, for some reason. The truth was, he hadn't been paying attention to that encouraging vote of confidence, or discouraging warning of impending doom. He was wondering how a couple of weirdoes like these two managed to be millionaires.

"First of all, you are going to need this," the jubjub fished around in his pocket, and produced a red kazoo. "My private collection includes a set of the rarest weaponish items in all of Neopia, but this one is the most important weaponish of all. Always be aware of where your kazoo is."

"What am I suppose to do with it though?" he blinked.

"When the time comes, you'll know," the RBS responded. The cliché was proof enough for the professor that the red kazoo would result in nothing but slapstick comedy, and he resolved never to use it.

"Second of all, well, there really isn't anything that can possibly help you against the army of ancient evil you intend to go up against," the jubjub shrugged. "So why don't we go see something cool, because I already had it set up!"

"Okay!" the professor responded cheerfully, feeling this was a perfectly reasonable substitution. Root Beer Soup led the way back to the middle of the beach.

In the middle of the Mystery Island beach, there was a bulky item covered in a white sheet. The RBS positioned himself next to the item, which was almost twice his height, and dramatically unveiled the… thing.

"It's a time machine!" he exclaimed.

_Impossible_, Richard L'Ogrin thought against a steady static background of, _Impossible_.

"Of course, there are still a few things to be tampered with," the inventor pleaded. "It's still not safe to transport neopets, because it might rematerialize into solid matter of another time, and that would be messy for all molecules involved, but I can control it with this remote!"

"Do it! Do it!" shrieked Dan, jumping up and down with clasped hands. RBS smiled his agreement.

"Let's send it hurling one hundred years into the future!" the purple jubjub raised his remote control dramatically, and pressed a button with conviction. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. The motionless time machine was still sitting in the same spot. "My invention works! Blessed Fyora, it works!"

"It's still sitting motionless in the exact same place in the sand," the professor protested.

"Of course it is!" the inventor snapped condescendingly. "It's a time machine. It's designed to move through time, not space. So I sent it one hundred years into the future, but to arrive at that time, it still had to travel through this time too. So it is still here. Where else did you think it would be through all that time? No idea what you wanted to do, but I am trying _not_ to break the space time continuum with paradoxes."

"Sweet Taelia, you are boss!" clapped Dan, but Richard

L'Ogrin stared unimpressed with the explanation.

"Let's bring it back then, and send it hurling one hundred years into the past instead, if that wasn't proof enough," the inventor spat. Pressing a button, he announced that the time machine had returned safely to its original time, give or take a few years, and pressing another button, shouted triumphantly. Nothing happed at all, again. The inventor stared with a self satisfied awe at his creation, "It's survived in this very spot all this time. Miraculous."

"Of course it has," the professor shrugged defeated. "In fact, it's so well tuned, it's probably safe to use yourself now."

"Fine," challenged Root Beer Soup, sensing his guest still didn't fully believe him. Strapping himself into the seat of the time machine he declared, "Why don't we do that then? I am throwing the time machine and myself one thousand years into the future!" The inventor put pressure on a peddle with one foot, and pulled a level with the other foot, and shook the time machine a bit for dramatic effect. For a few seconds he had an intense look of concentration on his face, then released the lever and sprang to his feet in the sand, declaring, "I have seen the future!"

Beside him, a group of grundos, an alien aisha, and a robot bori whirled around, alarmed by all the commotion, and decided to move their conversation to another location. Professor Richard L'Ogrin noticed a cute couple of royal cybunnies on the other side of him, and suggested he go see one thousand years in the past as well.

"Why are you mocking me, sir?" a serious Root Beer Soup demanded, sensing his guest was still incredulous. "Honestly, you are offering nothing but doubt, disbelief, and an egomaniacal complex to us who have given you all we have to offer." Although the professor felt genuinely remorseful about that, those traits were all he had to offer himself. "It's about time you were on your way, if you are not interested in any of my inventions, I shall simply give you this map," he stated cordially, handing him a map. "Professor Richard L'Ogrin of the National Neopian Academy, you do not know how important this quest is," the professor attempted to pay attention again at the mention of his name. "The whole World of Neopia depends on you, and as such, I am moving to the World of Warcraft instead, because it sounds safer. Farwell."

Chapter 9

Apparently, the entrance to Jelly World was located in a rocky chasm in the Tyrannian plateau, which was in turn located in a glacial trench in the ice caves of Terror Mountain. The quester had no idea though, because he was having trouble gaining access to the map. The map he had been given was protected by some sort of passworded cardigan cipher.

Luckily, there was a riddle attached to the puzzle which would no doubt help him decipher the cipher. The legendary Root Beer Soup had stormed away in contempt, leaving Dan and Professor Richard L'Ogrin to figured the way into the map themselves. The two stared at the riddle:

_In the time of the great Lost Desert drought,_

_Before the Tyrannian tongue was heard,_

_One might waste time speaking in Snorkle Snout,_

_But I really just chose an obvious word._

"What do you think the password might be?" the professor mused.

"It's probably Dan," said Dan. "After all, I am like his side kick, and he likes me a lot. Try Dan."

"It's never that obvious," the academic snapped. "It's probably a complicated series of clues and puzzle we need to solve, leading to other clues."

"Whatever," the zafara had already lost interest, and was licking his elbow again.

"First of all, the time of the Lost Desert drought," he continued to talk to himself. "What time did the Lost Desert ever

have a doubt?"

"No idea," chimed in Dan. "In fact, I have never heard of there being a drought in a desert at all."

"Me neither," muttered the professor. "It's ancient history though, prior to the development of the earliest recorded language, the Tyrannian tongue, putting it in prehistory. The first species of neopet to evolve was the chia, so if we are focusing on the furthest reaches of ancient history, then chias were probably only the species present, and a lot of individuals must have perished if it was deemed the great Lost Desert drought. So we need to determine a time that a whole lot of chias died."

Fortunately, Professor Richard L'Ogrin was a regular fountain of useless knowledge, particularly birth and death records, probably because of the company he keeps. Being pretentious, he had meant to befriend the Brain Tree, because that seemed like a prestigious name to drop, and because he had no other friends, being pretentious and all. As soon as he realized that the Brain Tree only asked a lot of questions and didn't know any answers, he befriended the Esophagor instead. Being ugly, foul, repulsive, and having eaten all his other friends, the Esophagor appreciated his friendship more anyway. So the two of them passed many lazy day memorizing trivial facts.

"Let me think," he was still speaking to himself. "According to the records, Barry Chia, Chester Chia, and Douglas Chia all died in 1460 Before Neopia. The great Lost Desert drought must have occurred in 1460 B.N.

"Second, the reference to the Tyrannian tongue in the riddle. I suspect we are supposed to translate the time into the Tyrannian tongue. It's almost Year Ten. The Neopian standard calendar started counting with Year One, but made the mistake of neglecting to count Year Zero, so the standard calendar began nine years ago, not ten. The Tyrannian calendar started counting ten years Before Neopia still, and the present is always Year One, so the Tyrannian calendar makes all dates nineteen years less than the Neopian standard calendar. In the Tyrannian tongue, the great Lost Desert drought happened in 1441 B.T.

"Third, we must waste time speaking in Snorkle Snout, as the riddle demands," he announced.

"Who still speaks a dead language like Snorkle Snout?" called Dan, raising an eyebrow.

"Iae ancae eakspae orklesnae outsnae uentlyflae," the professor responded proudly, and Dan made an impressed noise. "In order to translate into Snorkle Snout though, we need letters, not numbers. Alphabetically, we might use a simple substitution scheme to change the numbers 1441 to letters. The fourteen, might be an N, but there is no forty-first letter of the alphabet, so it must be the fourth and the first, D and A. So the date is NDA, translated into Snorkle Snout is DANae, and throw away the ae because that is silly and useless, and -" he gasped.

"What is it?" Dan inquired halfheartedly.

"It's the password!" Professor Richard L'Ogrin exclaimed. "It's genius, the whole riddle is utterly brilliant. No one ever would have guessed it, because all four lines are a separate, complicated clue to solve, and you need all four clues. The whole thing works together perfectly."

"So it turned out to be an obvious word after all," said Dan; he wasn't really asking a question.

"So obvious," the professor smiled proudly.

Carefully, he entered the password into the cardigan cipher, wherever one puts a password into a sweater, and unrolled the thick map.

"What in faerieland is this!" he shouted, and Dan approached to stare over his shoulder. "It's another indecipherable language." The helpful zafara delicately turned the map around in his hands, because he had been looking at it upside down again. The correction was not all that helpful though. The language, which turned out to be English, turned out to be another riddle as well. The professor stomped the whole thing into the sand. "Ahh! What the? No riddles; I refuse any further riddles. I have had it. Isn't there any other way to get to Jelly World? After all, you have all heard of Jelly World, and all act like it is common knowledge, so I assume everyone else has heard of it too?" the professor shouted and kicked sand, and Dan nodded a confirmation. "So there must be another way to get there. These must be someone else who knows how to get there, someone on this beach."

"Sure," the zafara offered. "The Shenkuu airship docked in the Mystery Island harbour is heading there in about an hour. You can probably barter passage with them."

Chapter 10

The suspiciously familiar Black Pawkeet was almost all petted by a crew of plagiarized, and presumably racist Disney characters. While walking the deck, the professor spotted a lonely looking fellow leaning against the deck railing, staring into the sea in concentration. No doubt a strange fellow, a tonu with wild tufts of grey hair plastered to his face, thick grey beard, wearing a top hat, but despite all his oddness, the professor was drawn to him as if to a fellow academic. As he approached the massive figure, it whirled around and bellowed at him in rumbling voice, "Who are you stranger?"

"Professor Richard L'Ogrin," replied Professor Richard L'Ogrin cheerful just to be saying his own name again. "Who might you be?"

"Professor Hugo Fairweather," the gruff fellow roared, lacking all social ability.

"Pardon me, but don't you…" he had no polite way of saying it, so he decided to just say it. "Don't you belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?"

"Yes, but hasn't he been dead like a hundred years now? That makes me public property. No sir, not me. I am a free man."

Professor Richard L'Ogrin was willing to accept this, but as another pirate swaggered past, he caught the character by the sleeve of his billowy white shirt and spun him into the conversation too. "What about you Garin? Don't you, and Jacques, and Isca, and Caylis, and even Scarblade, all belong to the Walt Disney corporation?"

"My understanding was that he was dead too," the pirate responded rather flamboyantly.

"Well yes, he is," L'Ogrin explained, "but Jerry Bruckheimer is only like sixty, and he –"

"Well, I think we can all agree he owns quite enough already," the Caucasian character snapped quite racistly, then wandered away again.

Finding no friends on this side of the deck, L'Ogrin crossed the cabin to the other side, to try talking to another lonely looking Disney character. As soon as he offered his outstretched hand in introduction though, the kid recoiled and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I don't associate with your type." So L'Ogrin decided to pass the rest of the voyage staring in utter disbelief at some mundane household object.

The Black Pawkeet arrived safely at the Jelly World Harbour, but did not dock. She did not even anchor. Circling anxiously around the harbor, the crew began hastily throwing all the cargo overboard and hoping it would wash in to shore, and not out to sea.

"Why aren't we docking?" the professor implored, grabbing Garin's sleeve again. The glare he got in response made him regret bringing up the sore subject of copyright issues.

"Are you crazy?" Grain responded, eyes burning intensely. "No one with any sense would willingly go there. I have stolen pirate ships, fought with daggers in the wake of cannon fire, defied Captain Scarblade, and faced the Slugawoo of the Maraquan Ruins, but I would dare not enter there."

"So we won't be getting any closer than this?" L'Ogrin confirmed.

"No!" Garin screamed.

So Professor Richard L'Ogrin strutted calmly to the side of the deck, peeled off his tweed jacket and, leaving it in a crumpled heap, dove off the side of the ship. The crew stared in disbelief as he swam to shore. The closer he got to solid ground, the thicker the jelly waters got, and the exertion was exhausting.

Finally, he reached the glistening jelly beach, and pulled himself to his feet, which sank abruptly. So he had to trudge to the top of the hill, toward the shining yellow jelly city. He followed the Yellow Jello Jiggler road into the centre of town, only to find it deserted. The Jelly Food Shop sign hung from only one chain, swaying and creaking in the wind, but no one petted the counter. The houses did not have doors. One by one, Richard L'Ogrin carefully craned his necked around the doorless doorframes and shouted, but there was never a response. At the very top of the hill, he stumbled upon the giant green jelly.

For the first time since his arrival, he heard a noise, a haunting om-nom-nom sound coming from the far side of the giant jelly. Foolishly, he crept around the perimeter of the mountainous food searching for the source of the sound. He spotted the tail first. The feasting custard Doglefox had his snout buried deep in the jelly, but the wagging tail was still visible.

"What do we have here?" the professor cooed, recognizing the custard Doglefox from that very same morning. The morning that now seemed like pages ago. As he reached to pick up the lost puppy, he saw a shadow engulf his own, and felt a swift, soft hit to the back of his head. Everything went black.

Chapter 11

Blinking frantically, Professor Richard L'Ogrin returned to consciousness to find himself chained to a chair with jelly netting. He was in a dank, yet sickly sweet smelling cavern. He suspected he was underground. A figure approached from the gloom, swinging a mango jelly club, the kind used for subtle bludgeoning. L'Ogrin recognized him to be Maurice de Rajk.

"Maurice!" the relieved hostage hissed. "Maurice! Help me! It's Professor Richard L'Ogrin. I'm over here. Someone hit me in the back of the head and then tied me to this chair."

The Altador Cup Official facepalmed himself. "You fool. That was me," he sighed, brandishing the club.

"Why would you do that?" L'Ogrin was shocked.

"Forgive me, old friend, but you knew too much," the epically bearded draik explained. "The world of Neopia cannot know about the existence of Jelly World yet, and you stumbled too close to the truth. You understand, I had to lure you here, and dispose of you, because we couldn't risk you exposing us."

"What are you talking about?" L'Ogrin was shockeder. "Before you called me this morning I had barely heard of Jelly World. You were the one who introduced me to the possibility, and I didn't even believe you when you told me."

"Ah, but you had been studying such reports all your life," the draik reminded him.

"Right," L'Ogrin remembered his own back story now. "Well, that seems fair enough then," he consented to his own disposal.

"I knew you'd understand," Maurice clasped his hands.

"Why exactly can the world of Neopia not know about existence of Jelly World yet?" he wondered a bit belatedly.

"Of course, I ought to explain," the draik smiled politely. "After all, you spent your whole academic career asking questions about Jelly World, studying the myth and legend surrounding it, and you never did find the answers, did you? Since I am going to succeed in killing you, and you will no longer pose the threat of exposing us, I suppose the least I could do is tell you the true story of Jelly World."

"That's very thoughtful of you," L'Ogrin waited with rapt attention.

"What happened was this," the storyteller launched. "In ancient times, about 2001, the Neopets Team started construction on Jelly World, planning release it to the public in the next plot. At about the same time though, their petpet genome project went awry with the appointment of that mad kookith as director. The hybridization and genetic splicing got out of control, and they accidentally unleashed the ultimate evil. Meepits. The meepits multiplied like snowbunnies, and invaded the sparsely populated Jelly World, claiming it as their territory. So the Neopets Team decided the safest thing to do was damage control, to herd as many meepits as possible in, quarantine Jelly World, and never let Neopia know of its existence. The quarantine worked well, but the meepits formed a hive dictatorship, and are building an army to overthrow all of Neopia. The attack is almost ready to be launched, and now, with you out of the way, nothing can stop our world domination. Muahahahaha!"

"What about the jelly shoyru I met this morning?" L'Ogrin inquired curiously, with no regard for her safety. "She was brining the practice team shield, with jelly residue, to the Neopian Times."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about her," Maurice smirked. "She was simply helping pique your curiosity. She, like almost all remaining jelly neopets, was raised by a meepit regime."

"Huh," L'Ogrin shrugged. "Well, I'm all out of hopeful taunts. Sounds like you've thought of everything."

"Indeed we have," the draik beamed. Recognition was always nice. The meepits so rarely appreciated his carefully convoluted scheming.

"What exactly are you going to do with me now?" L'Ogrin challenged. "Kill me?"

"Probably not," Maurice responded. "No, I never was a killer. Rather, I prefer to leave you here for the meepits. Ta ta."

The Altador Cup Official moved into one corner of the cavern, disappearing into darkness. Richard L'Ogrin heard the nauseating slurping sound of jelly walls splurging against the ground. The cavern walls were rearranging, and he realized that a giant door was opening in that dark corner to reveal a passage leading deep into a jelly lair.

Chapter 12

Professor Richard L'Ogrin sat perfectly still, primarily because he was bound tight to a chair, but secondarily because he was listening. Beyond the cavern, he could hear the rumbling of machinery, the scurrying of fuzzy hell spawn, and the high pitched squeals of the furry dæmons. The squeals sounded sharp and irritable, like the whole lot of them had been fed the wrong flavour of juice. He shuddered. He wondered if he should attempted break free from his bindings and flee, but his searching eyes found no other entrance or exit from the cavern, save the passage into their lair.

Suddenly, he heard a whisper, someone approaching from behind him. He felt panic swell from his hooves to the top of his head. The voice was soothing though, and the panic subsided. A hefty jelly poogle, and a jelly mynci stepped from the shadows.

"Richard!" the poogle had tears carving rivulets into her cheeks as she threw her bulk into him. "I never thought we would see you again."

"Who are you?" the professor recoiled, the panic returning.

"Of course," the poogle sighed. "You wouldn't remember us, but we're your… we're your parents, honey."

"What in Owner's username are parents?" he was flabbergasted.

"Parents are… " the mynci kneeled hesitantly, his face a few inches from his L'Ogrin's. He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and launched into a brief biological explanation of sexual reproduction, as L'Ogrin blanched. The mynci waited patiently for the vomiting to stop, then continued the story.

"As soon as we realized we were pregnant, we realized that we didn't want to raise you here in Jelly World; we wanted to give you a better life than that," he explained. "Of course, there was no way we would be able to pass ourselves as normal Neopians or escape Jelly World, but we thought that maybe, just maybe, we might be able to give you the better life you deserved. What with your mother being a pink jelly poogle, and your father being a red jelly mynci, we knew you were bound to be a green something else entirely," the logic was flawless.

"As genealogy dictates," L'Ogrin scoffed. "You know, I do understand basic genetics."

"So we figured that if we fed your mother an unhealthy amount of uncooked rice throughout the gestation period, we might just be able to pass you off as speckled."

"My Owner," the professor gasped, as it was all coming clear now. "What about…" he struggled to find a fully formed thought when he realized that there were still a lot of lose ends, and that things were not really coming clear at all. "My career as a swimming champion? How can I swim at all? If I am really jelly after all, wouldn't I melt in the water?"

"Indeed you would," his mother soothed, "but being better prepared, and possessing more forethought than the author, we thought of that ahead of time." She paused for a moment, looking helplessly at the author, who was damned if she was going to help her now. She continued tentatively, "So along with the rice, we put, uh… What's the opposite of antifreeze?"

"Umm, coolant?" the professor offered, acting as if he understood anything about engines. He wasn't really that kind of guy.

"Silly me, yes, coolant," she nodded vigorously. "Along with the rice, we put coolant in all that wine I was drinking."

"You drank wine while you were pregnant with me?" L'Ogrin accused his mother.

"You know, we really thought you'd be more concerned about the coolant," his father stared at him with an expression of disappointment.

"You drank coolant while you were pregnant with me?" L'Ogrin whirled around and accused his father.

"It's probably why you turned out to be so dull and unwilling to believe obvious things even when presented with insurmountable evidence," the mother smiled at him, and then corrected. "Only the one of us was pregnant with you."

"What the hell is that!" he screamed suddenly.

"Aww, sweety, that's your hat. It must have fallen off your head," his mother cooed, reaching down, picking up the hat, and settling it back on his head.

"Wow," Richard L'Ogrin was still catching is breath from the hat scare. "What are you doing here now?"

"We're going to get you out of here," his father proclaimed confidently. He had already freed his son from the chair, and currently waved him toward the gaping passageway.

Chapter 13

Skulking along the edges of the tunnel, the jelly family observed the working of the meepit mines. The meepits had amassed an army of petpets, lured by the giant green jelly, to do their slave labour. So few neopets had inhabited Jelly World in the first place, and many had escaped, but there were a few still chained to the line, swinging pick axes. The workers were harvesting something that smelled like slothium. The family moved through the mine slowly, pretending to be slaves. In fact, his parents were slaves, and the other neopets called friendly greetings as they crept silently. He heard shouts of "Hi Ernie!" and "How is your hand doing, Louise?" No one seemed to notice that they were not wearing the regulation chains that day. The whole mine was ringed with a moat of molten lava, but on the other side there was a bridged tunnel leading up to the surface, with sunlight filtering down. The family made a break for the tunnel, but were stopped dead in their tracks.

Immediately inside the tunnel, waited the meepit dictator himself. The meepit dictator stood in all his indistinguishable glory, the same as any other meepit, but his beady eyes burned with power.

"Morning Ernie, Louise," he offered cordially, turning to each respectively. "Morning Darth Meepit," the mynci bowed and poogle curtsied reflexively.

"Aren't you supposed to be on shift right now?" he gave them a slightly guilt tripping glare. "Following work, we are having a training exercise, a slave development session, and some team togetherness time. Are you going to be attending?"

"Yes," Louise blurted. "Well, we were, but…"

"No," Ernie stammered. "We were, uh, we have to…"

"Apparently the creation of community, and development of team dynamics are not priorities for you?" a rhetorical question.

"It's very important," Ernie answered ambiguously. The meepit was confused as to whether he meant that professional development was important, or that the other engagement, for which he was skipping it was important. Although the professor didn't understand a lot about their culture, it was clear they had one, and it seemed to revolve around a central bureaucracy. You know, the kind to which all their bases belonged.

"Where exactly are you going?" the meepit pressed, suspiciously.

"Escaping," Professor Richard L'Ogrin shrugged casually, and heard a reverberation of faceplaming echo all around him.

"Forgive me, mine furrier," Louise babbled. "I drank a lot of coolant while I was pregnant."

"Why would you do that?" the meepit was disgusted. "Did you mean for him to be able to swim through molten lava?"

"Whoa," L'Ogrin looked up excitedly. "Can I do that?"

"Only one way to find out," the meepit shrugged, motioning to the moat of molten lava. The professor started toward it, but his mother grabbed his arm.

"Sweety," she said firmly. "Don't do that. That's stupid."

"How can we possibly hope for self improvements if we are unwilling to take risks?" the meepit countered.

"Exactly!" L'Ogrin chimed, and for a split second his parents considered just letting him kill himself, but they held tight.

"Let him go, Darth Meepit!" his father pleaded. "My son is a simpleton who means you no harm."

"Very well," the meesith responded. "After all, any slave is free to leave at any time, provided you can get out of the mine before my army tears you limb from limb. Do you know all of those legends about meepits getting cranky if they don't get their juice? Of course you do. We don't drink juice. We drink blood. And it's not different flavours of juice we have a preference for. It's different colours of Neopet." He gave a peculiar squeal, and millions of gleaming meepit eyes appeared along the ledges of the cavern.

"Well, that doesn't seem so difficult," L'Ogrin mused. "I am already standing right at the exit."

"Ah," the meepit dictator chided, "but you wouldn't leave her to die, would you?" He swept his hand dramatically in the direction they had come, revealing the gleaming jelly shoyru, bound by netting, suspended from the ceiling, and being lowered into the molten lava.

"Beyoncé!" he screamed. Realizing he had never bothered to get her first name, he arbitrarily assigned her one. Beyoncé was a very stereotypically jelly name. As the leading lady in this story, she was permitted no further personality, and no active role in the plot except to tag along in bewilderment and admiration of L'Ogrin. Even though we know she was working with the Meepits all along, this revelation will not be dramatically revelated at the end of the story, because it was impossible and will thus be stricken from the record. It was impossible because the girls are always sweet innocent girls and are never involved in plot twists.

In order to reach her, he was going to have to go back into the middle of mine, toward the meepit army. Before he had time to think, he was always running to her rescue.

Chapter 14

Reaching the pool of molten lava in the centre of mine, he sprinted as fast as he could, faster than he ever had, and leaped across he. He lunged over it, snatching the damsel out of the air, and tumbling to the ground. He rolled, steadied himself on his hands and knees, then turned to remove her bindings.

Finally, the two jelly neopets were both free, but found themselves surrounded by a horde of circling meepits. The dæmons were closing in on the them, and all the while the meepit dictator was trying to distract them with yet another meaningless plot twist.

"While you are saying your goodbyes," he called, "there is someone else you might want to see."

The silhouette of another figure appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, and stepping forward, revealed herself to be the elephante nurse from the National Neopian Hospital.

"Muahaha!" the meepit squealed maniacally. "You see, she was in on it all along!"

"No, I wasn't," the nurse protested, disoriented, blinking and straining to see in the gloomy darkness. "I don't even know how I got here. I was just doing my dishes, and then – "

"Yes, you were!" the meepit hissed menacingly.

"Sure, that sounds like fun then," the nurse conceded, nodding frantically in an appeal to placate the cackling fur ball.

"Ahaha! You never saw it coming, did you?" the meepit challenged.

"Well, no," admitted L'Ogrin, "but I really don't see how that contributed anything to the story?"

"Can I go home now?" blurted the nurse, cowering in the corner.

"Sure, you can just… No, wait. No one who has seen this place can leave. You are a slave here now," he had her carried away by another branch of the horde, then turned to the branch encircling the professor. "Now kill them," he ordered. The meepits snatched Beyoncé and began chewing on her.

This was it.

Everything was happening simultaneously. The meepits were advancing. Beyoncé was being eaten. The plot was climaxing. L'Ogrin looked around frantically for a conveniently constructed venue to use his swimming ability, but not finding any, he collapsed, hopeless. Lacking even the basic ability to turn into a bicycle, he was desperate, until he realized he was not entirely hopeless. He still had one hope.

Fishing around in his trouser pocket, he found the red kazoo he had been given, and played it proudly, hoping the horrible screeching would destroy their central nervous system or something.

Nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen at an alarming rate.

Suddenly, the time machine appeared next to Beyoncé, and the RBS and Dan offered her their hands. They pulled her into the hovering craft, then blinked out of existence, and back in again, this time next to L'Ogrin. They helped him in too, and the next time he blinked, they were all back on the mystery island beach.

"What happened?" the professor wondered, rubbing his temples. "The time machine… it works. The time machine works!"

"What?" the RBS balked. "This isn't the time machine. That's the time machine," he pointed to the time machine still resting in the sand. "This is the space machine. Time machines move through time. Space machines move through space. What the hell use would the time machine have been in the situation? Honestly."

Professor Richard L'Ogrin wasn't listening, because he was lost staring into the eyes of his leading lady. Relieved, she collapsed into his arms and they kissed. The kiss made no sense based on a previous plot development. The two of them had no relationship to each other at all, except the ordeal they had been through together in the last twenty-four hours, and they hadn't been together through most of that anyway. Hell, he didn't even know what happened to her. As well, if you can recall to the beginning, she had a husband, and they only met because, as a devoted wife with no marital issues, she was visiting his husband in the hospital.

"By the way," he whispered romantically, realizing he ought to remedy this plot hole, "you husband died in hospital this morning." The gorgeous girl was stunned silent by the emotional magnitude of these words. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts, but L'Ogrin, misinterpreting the awkward silence offered condolences in the form of, "Did I mention I am a champion swimmer?"

The Mystery Island sunset was sinking below the horizon as the story ended. The Neopian Times would interview Professor Richard L'Ogrin many times, and even nominate him as one of Neopian's Most Fascinating. Yet he would remain mysterious, refusing to speak about his adventures in Jelly World, failing to warn the world of Neopia, and completely defeating the whole point of his escape, and he would live happily ever until the meepits attack.

"Wait! The story can't end yet. There aren't enough twists," whined Dan. "Aren't there supposed to be more reality bending twists at the end?"

"Oh well, I guess we just never got around to it," said Professor Richard L'Ogrin, the dashing speckled gnorbu.


End file.
